


blood in your mouth.

by projectfreelancer



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 12:49:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13881213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectfreelancer/pseuds/projectfreelancer
Summary: jacob is touch-starved & seeks out physical contact in anyway he can.





	blood in your mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> The implied child abuse is just during the first section.
> 
> Anyways is it obvious how much I love Jacob because I do really love him.

Evie is not someone who indulges in physical contact often. Jacob would laugh, if he were to think about it, because their father never hesitated to show her plenty: hugs, patting her back as she learned the way of the Creed; coddling as she blamed Jacob for anything and everything. Jacob would receive nothing except perhaps a nod or a hand to his shoulder that always accompanied a scolding, sometimes a hand marking red bruises across his face.

Evie, despite her youth, is not one to show affection through physical contact. At times, when Jacob cannot stop shaking as he tries to sleep, as he hears his father’s scolding in his head, wishes she was one to touch. If she could simply touch his arm, say,  _ you are not alone,  _ then perhaps he could believe it.

 

— 

  
  


The fight ring is more than just a place to earn quick cash and heaps of praise—though those still matter to Jacob. It is a place of release.

Jacob’s hands land on the man’s shoulder, wrist, and it’s warm, a hard presence underneath his touch. It’s grounding, and Jacob closes his eyes,. For the first time in months, he feels  _ there _ . And he twists, the man yelling in pain; Jacob has always been good at spraining a wrist or breaking an arm. The next man is just as easy: a few hits to the gut, one to the face, blood spilling onto Jacob’s fingers, wet, warm, slippery. The crowd roars with a deafening sound, and pride pools in Jacob’s stomach like the blood on his hands. The ringleader is holding his bloodied-hand up into the sky, “This is your new champion,” and Jacob breathes easier than he has in months.

When he lands on the train, hands hitting the back of Evie as she talks to Henry in lieu of a greeting, he shrugs off any questioning of why he seems to be so ecstatic. 

 

— 

 

The first thing Jacob truly notices about Roth, the first thing that draws his eyes closer to the man, is the vicious scar that lines the side of his face. A burning desire to trace his fingers across the trench in his skin flares in Jacob, and it takes everything in him to take his eyes off the scar. Roth speaks to him, asks him to sit, and everything in Jacob burns raw to get his hands on the man as if he is drawn to him, magnetized to the man. 

They end up working together, of course: Jacob is never going to deny himself a sense of excitement even if he puts his life in the hands of his enemy. It is for excitement, and, whether or not Jacob wishes to admit it, is the fact he does not want to leave the side of Maxwell Roth. It is a position that has pride, fear, desire crawling in his gut.

 

—

 

Roth touches him, and a part of him is born unlike anything else inside of him. Roth touches his hands against Jacob’s chest, against Jacob’s neck, against the soul of Jacob, and Jacob melts in the old man’s hands. He feels raw in the Alhambra, in Roth’s bedroom, on Roth’s bed. He feels like everything he has ever been or will be is something Roth can smell, feel, touch, taste.

And Jacob has never been touched like  _ this _ , let alone by another man. It’s vibrant, vicious in a way, causing Jacob to ache in ways he never thought truly possible. Roth’s lips pressed against his, and Jacob against his bed, Roth on top of him. And he can feel every part of Roth against him. He’s never been touched like this, and it is searing. This is not the fight club; this is not his hand concealing a dagger as it dips into someone’s throat. This is Roth’s lips following a path down his neck, and Jacob shakes, has never felt so grounded and so off-his-feet at the same time. 

“My darling Jacob,” is all Roth says, the rest hidden in kisses and touches,

 

—

 

The Blighters become more fun to beat after he has visited the Alhambra, the hidden spots of Alhambra, a multitude of times. There’s a part of him, deep and buried, that whispers,  _ Come on, Roth. Look how I kill your men; I do it for you. Whatever it takes to please you.  _

His templar target is in front of him, and a shiver runs through his body. Evie had wanted to complete the task herself as she rattled on a tangent about stealth, but he had promised he would be as  _ stealthy _ as possible. He was getting shaky, reckless, knew he needed to get his hands on something and soon.

He is a man to at least try to uphold his word to his sister, so he throws down a smoke bomb, leaping from the roof to sink his blade into the templar’s neck. Blood is on his fingers again; the man falling lifeless beneath his fingers. He knows the smoke is weakening, and the rest of the men have started to see him. He acts without thinking: a knife thrown at a man, shooting another, hands crashing against another’s face. It is not stealthy as his sister would want, but she cannot deny he tried. 

He lets the blood dry on his fingers for hours after the attack and knows he should return to the Alhambra that night.

 

—

 

This time is different. There’s blood on his fingers, but he wants to be clean of it badly. There’s a body underneath him: one he had known well. Fingers in his hair, a kiss to his lips. But he cannot melt into the touch: the lips against his taste like salty iron; the fingers against him are desperate. He pulls away from Roth’s kiss as if a second more might poison him, hears him laugh,  _ why not, _ fingers falling dead against his side. Jacob shakes the entire time he tries to escape the Alhambra.

He does not clean the blood off until morning. 


End file.
